Observing Dawn
by Obsidian Sphinx
Summary: Quatre catches Trowa in an intimate moment with daybreak. Yaoi. 3x4. Complete.


Disclaimer:

Me: Mwuaha! It's mine, all mine! HAHAHAHA!

(10 minutes later)

Me: (Being chased by rampant lawyers with pitchforks) Ahhhhhh! I was kidding! I don't own Gundam Wing!

Author's Note: Hey all! Well, I'm on a roll, I guess. I bring you now another 3x4 fic. It's a one-shot again, but it's nice, and I hope you guys enjoy it! Happy Readings!

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Observing Dawn

By: Obsidian Sphinx

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There it was again, that steady _whir_ that rose silently at first, and then seeped under his window to invade his thoughts. It was not as though the sound was especially irritating, in fact, it was barely noticeable, but he could not help but lend it his attention. At a dizzying three o' clock in the morning, Quatre did not presume to get a peaceful sleep anyway, so he was actually content with listening to that crisp hum fill the early morning atmosphere. It was clean sounding, gentle as it danced with the velvety darkness, reminding him of the silence just before a coin dropped in an empty room.

'Very discreet,' he thought, and he smiled to himself. 'Just as he is . . . just as he has always been.'

A sigh, which was promptly seceded by a yawn, escaped him as he turned on his side, carefully shifting the comforter so that he would not get tangled up in the covers. This side of the room was well lit by the moon that grinned down on the Earth below, its long, silvery arms wrapping protectively about this part of the world in a gesture of comfort and security.

"There is nothing to fear," it seemed to whisper. "I am here, as I have always been here."

Quatre smiled up at this celestial father and took comfort in its jovial, gray eyes.

'But surely your attention must be primarily on him,' he pondered inwardly.

Like shooting stars, Quatre's eyes fell from the sky and landed on the scene directly outside of his window. Tall, lean, and fluid as running water, he watched as Trowa glided effortlessly across the iced over pond outside of the lodge. His regal form dipped and turned in all of the appropriate places as he claimed the ice as his own, scarring the gleaming surface with his unforgiving blades. It was as though Trowa belonged out there. Quatre half expected the young man to simply merge with the ice when he would land a lutz or execute a spin. Watching him was almost a surreal experience, and it was a little embarrassing. He felt as though he were spying on a private moment, eavesdropping on a conversation that the green-eyed individual was having with some other entity.

'Perhaps another unreal being.'

A slight chill encompassed him, so he pulled his blankets tighter around him and pressed his blonde head firmly into his pillow, but he kept his eyes trained on Trowa. He could not help himself, for he was simply enamored with the way that the breeze would lift his brown hair, revealing both lovely eyes and the soft, finely chiseled contours of his face. His long arms would stretch to compensate for balance as he moved back and forth, sometimes a divine silhouette against the moon's light, and other times so close and human that Quatre could swear he could touch him through the glass windowpanes.

All the while that _whir_ of the skates against the ice crept into his head, soothing his restlessness but not promoting sleep. It was a sound whose task was to beckon and reveal to him the ethereal sight. It wanted him to drink of the soulful libation that was spilling from Trowa's form as quiet but uninhibited self-expression.

He sighed, smiling softly against his pillow. He had not even been aware that Trowa could skate so well, but then Quatre assumed he had much to learn. Shy embraces, playful flirting, and intimate words were the only testaments to their relationship. Trowa accompanied Quatre on business trips; Quatre stayed with Trowa when the young man's skills were needed at the circus. They were together, but the ground of their relationship was still very soft, so they stepped lightly. With each step came obstacles, some very minor, others emotionally straining, but every triumph led to harder ground, and one day Quatre was certain they would stand on concrete. They would walk on pavement as easily as his Trowa skated on the ice.

Quatre's eyes followed the skater's lithe form upward as he launched into the chilly air. There was a fraction of a second where Trowa seemed to hang in the air like a kite caught between two currents, and Quatre noticed the sliver of luminescent orange peeking over the horizon, just above his head. Trowa landed gracefully, drawing his attention away from the impending dawn.

'Has it really been hours,' Quatre wondered, rolling half way over to glance at the clock. It really had.

He would be dead on his feet for the conference later this morning and could not foresee the board scooping anything productive out of his mind. The thought brought a smirk to his face.

'The vultures will have to do without . . . my time has not been wasted this evening,' he thought.

Satisfied, Quatre turned back over, prepared to continue his visage. Just as he settled himself once more, he was startled by a soft knock on the window. Wide blue eyes beheld twinkling green eyes as Trowa stared at him through the glass. He was wearing a soft smile to offset Quatre's slack-jawed mouth, and his cheeks appeared slightly flushed from his activities. Quatre composed himself.

"You scared me," he said quietly, knowing that Trowa would read him.

Trowa watched his lips carefully, and his smile turned to a knowing smirk. "I know," he mouthed. "You shouldn't be awake."

The blonde shrugged. "I was watching you."

Now Trowa shrugged as well. "I know that, too," came his silent response.

Quatre averted his eyes, his cheeks coloring from embarrassment. Trowa had not given any indication that he knew he was being observed, and Quatre wondered how long he had been aware.

Another knock on the window demanded Quatre's attention, and he looked up to see Trowa's palm pressed against the glass, it's slender shape nearly a shadow between the darkness of his room and the gray twilight outside. Almost on instinct, Quatre reached out and pressed his own palm against the pane.

'How strange . . . it is as though he's pulling me through,' Quatre thought.

The pair locked eyes once more, carefully observing one another.

"Quatre," Trowa lipped.

"Yes?"

"I was watching you, too." Trowa's smile was shy, but he did not hide it. "I'm coming in now."

Quatre only nodded, pleased. As Trowa stood up and skated toward the lodge entrance, Quatre removed his hand from the window and tucked the chilled appendage under his pillow. Outside, the sky was beginning to fashion the vibrant rays of daybreak, and the intermingling colors reflected an eerie coral hue on the marred ice. He watched as this bedazzling light seemed to crawl towards him, watched as it leaked onto his window, and watched as its maturing intensity suddenly lit up the frosty outline of two handprints that had been pressed against the glass. They were lit up like angels, and Quatre smiled genuinely as he closed his eyes against the golden glare.

'Yes, Trowa, it is time to come in,' he thought, and his smile remained even after Trowa was snugly tucked beside him.

-OWARI


End file.
